Starting Over Again
by CalculusWasTough
Summary: Why on earth does Harry keep a jar of peanut butter with him no matter where he goes? Severus is determined to find out, if only, at the very least, to be able to enjoy a night in bed without it sitting on the bedside table, watching them. Twoshot.
1. All The King's Horses

**A/N: I wrote this story while listening to "Starting Over Again" by Reba, so that's where the title came from XD And the quote Severus says at the end is by Charles Schulz. (The only reason this is rated R is because of the language in some parts.)**

**And All The King's Horses...**

The first thing Harry did the moment the war ended was call one of the school's house elves to ask for a jar of peanut butter. He acquired numerous strange looks for that, considering he hadn't even made it off the bloodstained battle field yet. But since he was standing over You-Know-Who's dead corpse, who was going to deny him anything?

Even when Harry carried the jar to Ron's grave, who had died bravely in the midst of the fighting, and smeared peanut butter across the top of it, no one said anything. _He'll have his reasons, _Kingsley said. _It's just his way of coping, _Bill shrugged. _Peanut butter is good for the soul! _Tonks added brightly.

But as days turned to weeks, turned to months, and everyone began moving on with their lives, Harry continued to keep a jar of peanut butter in the cabinet. And in the staff room. And beside the couch. And next to the bed. And under a loose floorboard in the library.

In fact, what everyone had initially put down as a creative way to cope with loss, was now becoming an odd part of Harry's every day life.

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Snape was at a loss as to where this new obsession had come from, and more so yet, what to do about it.

The first time Harry brought peanut butter to bed, it had been a new and exciting experience. Who knew the sticky, sweet substance could be so erotic?

The second time, Severus recalled fond memories from the previous encounter and gladly welcomed a refresher.

The third time, however, he wondered if maybe this was taking things just a bit too far.

When questioned about his strange fixation, Harry merely shrugged his shoulders and answered "I just like it."

Well Severus happened to like his shiny new best-selling Potions book, but that didn't mean he wanted to bring it to bed every night, cover Harry with the pages and then lick them off of him.

Okay... so maybe the peanut butter wasn't quite as revolting as that. But still, his mind insisted, enough was enough. It was time to seek out a second opinion.

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Midway through a discussion of the latest experimental potion featured in Potions Weekly, Severus found himself asking Hermione, who had become the Transfiguration teacher after Minerva accepted the Headmistress post, if there was anything wrong with his lover.

"Wrong?" Hermione frowned.

"Well," Severus hesitated, "perhaps wrong isn't the word for it. Simply... unusual?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought. "No, he seems the same to me. Why?"

Severus was reluctant to tell her anything, especially since it would probably sound as though he was overreacting. It _was_ only peanut butter after all. But...

After deliberating a moment more, Severus began to tell her about Harry's new addiction, starting from the ending of the war, to walking around with it shrunk in his pocket, to using it every time they had sex.

Hermione's eyes widened as he spoke, and he was surprised to see tears glistening in them.

"Miss Granger, are you—"

"I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about, Snape. Harry is probably just trying to adjust."

Adjust to what? Severus wanted to ask, but the young witch had already hurried out the door without so much as a goodbye.

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Weeks passed slowly, and Severus was still no closer to understanding than before. He could feel frustration starting to sink in, but he refused to be followed around by a damned jar of peanut butter for the rest of his life. Giving up was not an option.

Of course, perhaps it was slightly optimistic of him to say for the rest of his life. Technically, the peanut butter was _Harry's _burden, so if they ever broke up Severus would be free.

But he didn't want to be free, not really.

Yes, he was concerned. Yes, he wished Harry would put the jar down every once in a while. Yes, he wanted to go back to the days where it was only Harry and Severus, not Harry and Severus _and the mysterious jar of peanut butter in the corner watching their every move._

But if it came down to it, he could push all of that aside, as long as Harry loved him. Which was really all that mattered.

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Severus had all but conceded defeat when, out of the blue, the answer was presented to him in the form of Ginny Weasley. For a moment all he could do was stand there stunned, watching her walk across the school grounds with a container of peanut butter _that looked exactly like Harry's _tucked under her arm.

Was there a fucking club of peanut butter fanatics or something?

Fang's loud barks of greeting to the youngest Weasley snapped him out of his shock, and he swiftly strode over to her.

"Miss Weasley."

Ginny looked up at him surprised. He couldn't blame her; talking to one of Harry's friends without the green-eyed man there to play mediator was something he simply did not do if he could help it.

"Um... hi Professor."

"I suppose you've heard that Hagrid's finally cleaned out that filthy infestation of Bundimun and have come to harvest the secretions?"

The blasted girl was now looking at him like he'd grown an extra head, or offered to her his undying love. Well, really now, what sort of small talk could you expect from him?

"Uhm, no... actually, I'm here to leave this on Ron's grave." She gestured toward the jar in her hand.

Severus almost cried out in exasperation. Even the dead needed their daily fix of junk food now??

Seeing his sceptical look, Ginny hastened to add, "It was his favorite. Before he... you know."

And just like that, a light bulb went off inside Severus's head. _It was his favorite._

The brooding Potions Master spun around and headed back to the school, leaving a bewildered red head in his wake.

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All of the pieces had slid into place, and Severus was sure he understood what was going on now, but he still wanted to check one last thing.

He knocked on the door to Hermione's quarters twice, then waited patiently for her to answer.

After a few seconds the door opened, and the bushy-haired woman appeared, looking politely puzzled.

"Snape?"

"Miss Granger, I was wondering if perhaps I might have a word with you. Inside."

Still looking confused, Hermione moved out of the way, allowing him entrance. She watched uncertainly as Severus stood in the middle of the sitting room and carefully examined her quarters.

"What're you..."

"Shh," he hushed her.

At last, he spotted it. There, sitting inconspicuously on the mantle, was a jar of peanut butter. One that might have been a sister to Harry's and Ginny's. _It was his favorite._

"I see now," Severus said quietly.

Hermione's eyes followed his. When he glanced over at her, her skin was a deathly pale. Oh yes, he understood. Without another word, he left.

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Harry was curled up on the sofa waiting for him when he eventually returned to their rooms somewhere around midnight.

"Where've you been?"

Severus didn't answer.

"Severus? Are you alright?"

A soundless battle was taking place in Severus's mind. Was now the time for this conversation?

His eyes on Harry, he considered. Finally, he shook his head. It was too late, maybe in the morning.

"Severus?"

Harry was showing visible signs of agitation now. Severus almost smiled at the sight. Almost.

"Hello love," he murmured, before bringing his lips down to meet Harry's.

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"I refuse to allow you to bring your dead lover to our bed," Severus snarled as Harry reached for the peanut butter. Immediately, his young companion froze.

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked.

"You know _exactly _what I'm talking about, Potter."

Although Severus had chosen earlier to put this off until the next morning, he realized it couldn't wait that long. Things had been progressing well after that kiss in their sitting room, leading them straight back to the bedroom without further conversation. But as soon as their clothes were off Harry did what he'd done so many times before.

Grabbed. That. Goddamn. Peanut. Butter.

"Tell me, Potter, who do you think about when we have sex: me, or Ronald Weasley?"

Harry's complexion went ghastly white. "Y-you. Of course you."

"Really? Then why is it every time we're in bed you want to involve the peanut butter?"

Fuck, he was talking about it like it was their pet dog or something. Perhaps it was. Perhaps they would have to go to couple's counseling, and Severus could tell all about how the peanut butter was coming between them.

Perhaps they wouldn't even make it that far. Perhaps everything was going to end tonight, with the bloody jar of peanut butter sitting on the bedside table watching oh-so-innocently.

"It's just _peanut butter, _Severus!"

"Like hell it is!" Severus shouted at him.

Tears were welling in Harry's eyes, threatening to spill over, but Severus wasn't sure if that was an effect of him yelling, or the conversation.

"Harry," he began again, in a considerably softer tone, "I spoke with Miss Weasley this afternoon. I know why you clutch that jar to you so dearly."

The green-eyed retreated within himself, drawing his knees up to his chest. A slight tremble ran through his body.

"Talk to me Harry," Severus said gently.

Not daring to raise his eyes to the Potion Master's, Harry began speaking to the bedding.

"I loved him," Harry whispered. "The way I should have been loving you all this time."

Severus shut his eyes to hide his pain, but the man wasn't done.

"I never told him." A small, bitter laugh. "How could I? He was straight, it would only have made things awkward. And then... well, and then there was you. And I thought that if I could just immerse myself enough in all things you, then it'd be okay. I could stop pining after him. I could move on with my life, especially after he and Hermione got together."

He glanced up, but Severus's face was completely closed off and Harry couldn't tell how he was taking this. He looked back down at the bed and continued.

"But it didn't work. All I knew how to do was love _him_. Like... like that song. You can lead a heart to love but you can't make it fall? That's exactly how it went. Every moment we were together, all I could see was him. Then he got killed in the war. And... I still see him. Even when we have sex, I can almost imagine it's him."

With each word Harry spoke, the fissure stretching across Severus's heart cracked open a little more, creating smaller cuts that shot off in every direction.

"Did you _ever _love me?" he asked quietly. The guilty silence that greeted him spoke the answer louder than words ever could.

And with that, the heart of one Severus Snape, Potions Master, Order of Merlin, First Class, shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

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There were no more words left to say. Severus got off the bed, walked to the door, and held it open.

Harry's eyes widened, in shock, in ineffable sadness, he didn't know. But there was understanding written on his face and he didn't ask what was happening or why.

He dressed silently, and before he walked out the door, and out of Severus's life, he paused.

"I'm sorry," he whispered sorrowfully in Severus's ear.

Then one last kiss and he was gone.

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Severus sat alone in his rooms, staring quietly into the fire. A small jar of peanut butter rested on the table beside him, lidless.

"Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love," he whispered, raising the spoon to his lips.

End Part One.


	2. And All The King's Men

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**And All The King's Men**

It was cold.

And dark.

And this was a new age, why hadn't proper furniture inside dungeon cells been foreseen yet?

Harry sat, his back pressed against the wall farthest from the door, his legs held protectively against his chest. On the floor beside him was an empty jar of peanut butter.

And really, Harry thought, all his current troubles could be blamed on that jar. After all, if it hadn't started accompanying him everywhere he went, then Severus would never have started asking questions, then he would never have ended up alone, and _then _the exDeath Eaters would never have been able to capture him and toss him in here.

Yes, Harry decided firmly, everything was that jar's fault.

But... thinking of the jar led him back to thoughts of Severus. In fact, whenever he wasn't bemoaning his current situation, or wishing the floor wasn't quite so rock-solid hard, or why oh why hadn't anyone come to kill or rescue him yet, Severus was _all _he thought about.

He realized as the hours wore on in his darkened cell, that Severus Snape has now seeped into every corner, every crack, of his mind, has encompassed his entire soul. He can't concentrate on Ron anymore. It's almost like he never could.

Because where is Ron now, as he huddles against a damp, moldy wall awaiting his death? Where was Ron, when the war ended, and so many things had changed, and he had struggled against the tides of depression to put his life back together? Where was Ron, when he had stood on blood stained ground, hoping and praying that all of this was about to end, and there would be no more suffering, no more death, and please let Voldemort be swallowed up by the earth soon?

_Dead. _Ron was dead. Ron had died before any of this. Why had it taken Harry so long to understand that?

Ron hadn't been there for any of those moments. Ron hadn't seen him through. Ron hadn't seen him through _anything_. Nobody had, not really. Nobody except Severus.

Harry felt like a first class fool. How could he have been so blind? No, it wasn't blindness. It was forcing himself to not see. Instead, he had cut himself off from all of his senses, and tried to recapture something he'd never had in the first place. All the while under appreciating the thing he actually had. _Severus._

Severus's face the day Harry had told him so many awful things flashed in his mind. He couldn't understand how he could have done something so terrible to someone who had only ever wanted to love him.

Harry fervently wished someone would come to torture or kill or _for Merlin's sake_ at least interrogate him soon, because he was already slowly dying under the weight of his guilt. Whatever the exDeath Eaters had planned for him was _nothing _compared to what he had done to himself.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered softly, knowing Severus couldn't hear him, and knowing he didn't deserve the man's forgiveness anyway.

Silent tears streaked down Harry's face as a realization hit him, one that he had known all along, somewhere in the back of his mind. The entire time he had been in here, he had held closely the belief that Severus would save him. Not Ron, the boy he had wasted his love on, but Severus.

Not once had he considered that Severus would leave him here to die. And he still didn't. _How incredibly selfish is that? _he wondered silently. But he knew he wasn't wrong. Severus, despite how much he must hate him now, was going to rescue him.

Because that's what Severus had made a lifetime of, it seemed like.

Rescuing Harry. From the enemy, from danger, especially from himself.

Why couldn't he have seen that?

A harsh scraping sound dragged through the air, cutting his thoughts short. A second later he heard a lock sliding. _Finally_. But it wasn't Severus who stood there with light filtering through the open doorway.

"Why, hello Harry Potter," a nasty voice drawled. _Malfoy._

That was the last thing Harry had time to think before two robed men strode into the cell, grabbed each of his arms, and roughly dragged him out.

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When Harry came to, he was back in his cell. And he _hurt. _Blood was dripping down the side of his face, there was a large gash on his left arm reaching from his elbow to his wrist, and, judging from the excruciating pain, he was pretty sure at least three of his ribs were broken.

The room around him, with its stone walls and filthy floor, was fading in and out as his consciousness wavered.

_Water._ That was all he really wanted right now. And Severus. But his injuries were making his mind woozy, and doubt was beginning to creep in.

Maybe Severus wasn't coming after all?

Because… because if he was, wouldn't he have showed up already? _Why _would he force Harry to endure this pain first? Unless…

Maybe it was revenge. Or punishment. Or justice.

Perhaps, for all the emotional pain he had given Severus, he was getting it all returned to him in physical form.

His mind latched onto the idea immediately. Somehow, imagining the situation that way made it easier to bear. Because that meant Severus was still going to be his savior, he just wanted to teach Harry a lesson beforehand.

Which was fine with Harry. His remorseful heart demanded he make up for his wrongs, and if this was the way it would be done, then Harry gladly welcomed any amount of pain Lucius Malfoy wanted to throw at him.

Having settled the matter most thoroughly within his mind, Harry relaxed his body and gave in to the increasing pressure to close his eyes and… just… sleep…

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The next time Harry awoke, he was in a bed in the Hogwarts Infirmary, with absolutely no memory of how he got there. He sat up quickly in surprisewell, _attempted _would be the proper term for it. Hot flames of aching agony licked at him the moment he moved, and he fell back against his pillow gasping.

After he had recovered enough to breathe normally, he took a glance around the quiet room. What he saw nearly made him lose his breath again.

There, lying on the bed beside him, black hair strewn wildly across the white sheets and arms half-hanging off the bed as though they were trying to touch Harry, was Severus Snape.

Harry cautiously, so as not to wake him, stretched out a hand to brush one wayward strand of hair from Severus's face. A twinge of pain shot up his arm, but he stubbornly ignored it.

"You came for me didn't you?" he asked softly. "I told myself you would, but there was still that lingering fear. Oh, Severus."

The body beneath his fingers stirred slightly, he jerked his hand away guiltily. A second later Severus's eyes fluttered open.

"Severus?"

Obsidian met emerald. There was a slight hesitation in which neither man did anything, simply stared at each other. Harry began to shift forward, but stopped automatically as a sharp slice of pain pierced his side. Just like that, the connection broke.

Severus's eyes opened impossibly wide, and within a heartbeat he was off his bed and hovering over Harry with a worried air.

"I'm sorry!" Sweet, lovely words. The first Harry had heard from his exlover in _months._ And didn't Severus have a voice that was to die for? He took a couple seconds to bask in the glory of those dulcet tones, until the actual words registered.

"Sorry?" he repeated in bewilderment. "For what?"

Dark shadows flitted through Severus's gaze.

"It was outside my intentions for you to extend your extracurricular activities to include a prolonged visit inside Lucius Malfoy's dungeons."

"What?"

A sigh. Harry was glad that Severus still had spirit enough in himself to be exasperated with him.

"I should have rescued you sooner," Severus clarified, reaching out and gripping one of Harry's hands between both of his. The raven-haired man brushed off his concern with a shake of his head.

"No, it's okay. I understand why you didn't."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "You do?"

"Yeah. You wanted me to pay penance for my actions against you before you came for me. I get it. For all the emotional damage I did to you, it was returned to me in physical form."

There was a look of complete and utter shock plastered on Severus's face. Actually, Harry would say the right word for it would be "flabbergasted", but no matter the meaning, the very sound of the word simply didn't flow with Severus's persona.

"You thought I _what_?" the older man nearly shouted at him.

"You... wanted to punish me. Didn't you?" Harry asked, confused.

"_No!_ Harry, no matter how upset I am with you, I will never _ever _subject you to torture, especially not by the hands of Lucius Malfoy!"

"O-oh," replied Harry in a small voice.

Severus dropped back onto his own bed, and buried his face in his hands after pulling them away from Harry's. Neither spoke.

"It was easier, you know," Harry finally said, "to cope, I mean. It was easier once I figured that you were punishing me. Because then I knew that you were still coming for me."

Severus didn't look up. Harry continued.

"I thought that once you decided I'd been punished enough, you'd rescue me. And everything would be okay."

This time Severus's head lifted and their eyes locked. Incredulity shone from obsidian orbs.

"Everything would be okay?" he echoed.

"Well... yeah. I hurt you, you hurt me, we'd be even you know? And things could go back to the way they were before."

"Exactly how far back are you referring to, Harry?" Severus asked, disbelieving.

A faint blush graced the younger man's face, he could sense this wasn't going to end the way he'd hoped it would, but he had to continue. He mumbled quietly, half hoping Severus wouldn't hear.

"Speak up!" Severus snapped.

"B-back to... before," Harry stalled.

"Specify _before _please."

"Before we separated..." He looked everywhere except at the man sitting on the infirmary bed across from him.

Silence greeted his hesitant proclamation, but he could feel Severus's eyes burning into him and he was reluctant to look up. Finally the lack of response coupled with the insistent stare got to him, and Harry slowly moved his eyes upward to meet Severus's.

"No amount of Crucio can stand as a substitute for your love," Severus told him with an impassive gaze.

Then he stood, straightened his rumpled black robes, and left, leaving behind a broken green-eyed Savior clutching his bed sheets desperately in his fisted hands and choking on the words he had no right to say now. _I do love you._

He understood, now better than he thought he ever could.

It was over.

Fin Part Two.


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